


Snow And Feathers

by maeumiapaseo



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: M/M, Short One Shot, and snow is cool, corny.. i know... but hear me out right... yanan is etheral af, fallen angel AU, shitty description, that is pretty much it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 11:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12605788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maeumiapaseo/pseuds/maeumiapaseo
Summary: It was just a snowy day like any other. However something doesn't quite sit right with Hwitaek as he looks out the window and it compells him to go outside and look for what seems so odd the day in particular.





	Snow And Feathers

Everything seemed to have turned mute, frozen under a white cloak that sparkled under the never warm enough winter sun, but in spite of looking just like any other January night, it didn’t feel like such.

Hwitaek swiped a gloved hand across the fogged window, clearing it away to reveal the white nothingness outside. He squinted at the cold scenery that extended before his eyes. Even the thick expanse of forest a bit farther ahead seemed to stand still as it ever was.

He couldn’t exactly pin down what it was that felt odd about the outdoors that day, but he felt compelled to go outside.

His hands reached for the thick fabric of his coat hanging by the door and the slightly worn red wool scarf next to it and quickly he found himself wearing them and reaching for the doorknob. Upon turning it and pulling the thick wooden surface open, he was greeted by the cold breeze that immediately nipped at the tip of his nose.

Adjusting the scarf to cover the lower part of his face he took a leap forth, breaking the silence with the subtle crunch noise made by the sole of his boots on the snow.

At a gradual pace, the small wooden cottage became smaller, fading into the background that stretched behind him as soon as his hand caressed the rugged surface of the first pine tree of the forest.

Usually he would be able to hear some sort of animal sounds. Even in the coldest of nights it was common to hear the howl of the wolves that kept hunting for usually lithe fawns that skipped around the snow patches that managed to fall between the branches of the trees.

This day he couldn’t so much hear the peep of an owl, since usually those lurked in the nests camouflaged into holes on tree trunks.

It was as eerie as it was luring him deeper into the woods.

And so he went, he pace steady as his eyes darted all over the place trying to find something that would stand out in that stillness of winter. Something that would prove him right, that would justify in his curiosity and instinct to leave the house.

It took him long enough, almost enough to consider himself lost had he not known these woods like the back of his hand. He spotted a single feather resting almost weightlessly on the snow. It wasn’t a common feather. He knew all the species that made that forest their home since he was a small child, and he was certain no specie had pitch black feathers as long as the one that now contrasted against his red gloves as he had picked it up.

He looked up to the trees and squinted in search of a lost bird of sorts but his attention was quickly snatched to beyond where he stood as he heard a branch break. The only silence to have echoed asides his own steps the whole time he was there.

Hwitaek lurched forward, chasing the sound as he held the feather in his hand, careful not to damage it in any way. In a couple of steps he found another feather, twin to the one in his grasp. The only difference was that there were a couple of droplets of blood next to it, the crimson colour standing out on the pureness of the white snow.

Hwitaek crouched down to pick up the feather, ignoring the bizarre beauty of the contrast of colours in favour of running desperate seeking whatever injured animal could be wandering towards a slow death.

It reminded him of a story his mother used to read him when he was a child, of boy who kept chasing small crumbs into the wood to then find a whole gingerbread house, except he was chasing feathers. Hopefully this tale would have a happier fate than the one he would listen to wide eyed in a warm bed.

The cold was now slowly biting more into his skin, especially through some bits of his clothing that had gotten wet from when the snow had melted onto it. However he couldn’t bring himself to turn back, to return to the safety of his house. As the number of feather kept growing in his hold, the more determined he grew, even more as he kept noticing the occasional droplets of blood.

Whatever the wounded creature was, it shouldn’t be fatally wounded. His kind heart would only ache if it were to leave the creature to suffer through freezing to death after exhaustingly wandering wounded.

A small short gasp parted through his lips when he realized just how far had he walked upon hearing the sound of water slowly sloshing against rocks.

He squeezed through the two big pine trees that lead to the big lake. It was as beautiful as it could be, the snow gathered between some rocks, the ring of forest around the water circle. He always loved this lake. In the summer he would usually pick it as a fishing site, the calm of it all and the teal tone of the water being its favourite things. However in the winter the water seemed a tone of grey, a reflection of the sky, and only moving when the wind blew.

With a small sigh he looked down at his hand, for sure the creature had to be around the lake.

Trying not to make much noise he followed the last feathers to his right, holding his breath as he saw the tip of a big wing peeking out from behind a big rock.

After carefully storing the feathers away in his pocket he decided to approach the rock, nervousness making his heart beat twice as fast in his chest. It seemed like a big wing. Usually big birds were feisty if not handled swiftly.

He set his hands against the cold, hard, surface of the rock and tiptoed to look over it, and immediately his breath got knocked out of his lungs when he laid eyes on the creature.

It was a man with wings dark as night.

The man was fallen on the floor, having most likely tripped on the smaller pebbles Hwitaek could bed. He was definitely taller than Hwitaek was and had hair as dark as his wings that was covering most of his face, yet not enough to keep Hwitaek from noticing his long lashes. His wing had a big gash, which explained the fallen wings and the blood Hwitaek kept finding.

Hwitaek couldn’t keep himself from staring, from taking in every detail of that slender yet toned body, that porcelain skin that was only covered by some sort of white – yet dirtied with blood and mud – cloak. He took some time to acknowledge that the man had noticed him looking over, Hwitaek losing breath once again when he noticed the pair of dark eyes focused attentively on him.

Hwitaek carefully stepped out from behind the rock, his hands raised up in a small gesture of one who means no harm. Nevertheless the other man still tried to scramble back, eyes widening before the small gestured caused him to hiss in pain and Hwitaek to halt in one spot.

“Be careful,” Hwitaek said in the softest voice he could manage. The man licked his lips nervously and coughed a bit, Hwitaek’s eyes not failing to notice the appealing bob of his adam’s apple as he did so. “I’m here to help,” Hwitaek tried again, very slowly moving his hand to point at the wing with a mildly wet gloved finger. “You’re injured, right? I can help.”

“How can I trust you?” Was the only thing the man said. His words making Hwitaek notice how chapped his lips were, most likely from the cold wind, not only that but they were also shaking a little bit. The man was undoubtedly freezing.

“You’d have to take my word, I really only want to help. I help any creature I find in need of assistance. Here…” In a swift movement, Hwitaek unwrapped the red scarf from around his neck and extended it to the man. “It isn’t much but put it around your shoulders.”

It was with a small hint of uncertainty that Hwitaek saw the other’s long, slender fingers reach out for the worn fabric of the scarf, taking hold of it and hooking it around broad shoulders. “Thank you. ” the man spoke in a soft tone.

With a bright smile and kind words, Hwitaek didn’t take too long to convince the man – now known as Yanan - to take his help. And soon the two made their way back to Hwitaek’s cottage, Hwitaek thanking any divine entity for the fact it hadn’t started snowing nor had the wind blow too strong to erase his footsteps from the cold snowy floor.

Hwitaek had just closed the door to his house when Yanan collapsed on the floor. He looked hauntingly beautiful, Hwitaek noticed. His pale skin turning a bit pinker as it was exposed to the warmness of the house. His wings however were starting to fade right before Hwitaek’s incredulous eyes.

He moved his hand to rub at them, thinking his eyesight had gotten foggy from the cold, however when he lowered them again, the wings were completely gone and on the floor lay merely a stunning man with injuries still to take care of.

Winter was a season of mystic, his mother had said once, when he was a mere big eyed child eager for bed time stories. She had warned him to always be kind, to never judge, to always help. He would be rewarded for doing such. Little did he guess Winter would ever reward him something such as Yanan, the dark winged fallen angel

**Author's Note:**

> Well i hope you've enjoyed this short kinda weird one shot that wasn't proofread at all (so sorry for any possible typo os mispell or swapped word).
> 
> In case this work reminds you of HaSeul's song, the video and song were my main inspiration on this cold november day.


End file.
